It was the sweet scent of fruits that woke Moulin from his sleep. The fragrance of citrus and something minty and sweet. The blankets of glistening pure white wrinkled as a pale arm moved.
Long thick lashes fluttered open, and drowsiness vanished from lustrous silver pupils. The youth blinked a few times. He gazed at the open windows. The horizon reflects itself within his eyes. The golden glow bathes his slender form. A layer of yellow enveloped the whole interior of the room.
Moulin furrows his brows as he slowly rose from the pillows. Gazing down at his body, he realized he was already cleansed and dressed. A crease appeared between the youth's brows. Turning his head, he roamed his eyes around him.
Where were Snow and Keir?
Where was Hadrian?
